


Like a lonely house (till then my windows ache)

by brokentoy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Sibling Incest, Underage Sex, lapsex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 02:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokentoy/pseuds/brokentoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It goes deep, this thing you have, deeper than anything you might ever hope to know. You've lost the battle and the war and you can't complain about it; you've been defeated with no shame, and you won the right to rest your head upon her stomach, her hands threading into your hair and scratching at your scalp in soothing motions</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a lonely house (till then my windows ache)

 

 

She finds you in her room, sitting on her bed as you idly take stock of all the changes made in here in the months when you were gone.

There were dolls before you left; old, cracked porcelain things piled together in a corner since you both were kids. You wonder where they are now, but truth is you never really liked them, their glassy stare heavy and so judgmental that they're better off hidden somewhere in the attic for all you care.

That's how she finds you and that's how you smile at her when she opens up the door and looks at you like you're not real, like she's trying to decide if this time it's really you and not a fantasy or a dream or just the shadow of a memory.

It hasn't been that long but long enough; ten, twelve months since the last time you saw her, get togethers with your family as rare as once a year since you left for school. Time is relative by now and yours has been slipping slowly through your fingers as you kept your thoughts as far away as possible from here.

It didn't really help, for the moment she's smiling down at you, radiant and beautiful like she found the only piece that ever dared go missing, you're undone and there's no hope.

And you never had a chance, not really. Not against her, sweet and stubborn and a perfect line of youth, walking softly on the carpet of her room with intent in her eyes and laughter dying in her throat. Something changed about her; you think it might be a haircut but it might as well be the shadow of independence that the end of high school brought forth upon her.

She changed so much and she's not even trying to hide it, her step sure and bold as she lets the door fall shut and walks to breach the distance that a year put between you.

You don't talk because there's just too much to say, so much that silence is your only option, and it must be fine with her because her dimpled smile never wavers, golden strands of hair that frame a face so dear to you it seems like you can't breathe.

It goes deep, this thing you have, deeper than anything you might ever hope to know. You've lost the battle and the war and you can't complain about it; you've been defeated with no shame, and you won the right to rest your head upon her stomach, her hands threading into your hair and scratching at your scalp in soothing motions. You want to take her hand, spread her fingers on your chest and feel how far inside you she can get when she steps inside the space between your legs, folding herself around you like she's the one supposed to bear the weight of what you make together. Like she's the one to just take care of you and your choices, innocence dripping from her lips as she peppers kisses on your forehead.

She wears a skirt instead of jeans and boyish shorts like she used to; it's a white, flimsy thing made for summer, soft to the touch and it almost feels like worn out paper as your hands slip underneath. She's holding you so close you can feel the erratic beating of her heart through the cotton of her shirt, straining against flesh and bones and fabric in a vain attempt to dig out of her and inside you, reunite with your own heart.

You want to tell her how much you missed her; how hard it was for you to keep away this long and how much you need to do it, but the swell of her lips is soft against your temple as her mouth slides down to kiss your eyelids, and you think she already knows.

She takes her time. Things have changed and it's not like it was before, when it all had just begun.

She's a grown up, now, almost eighteen and out of here and all the efforts that you made have come to nothing because you just can't seem to keep away. You've crossed the country on a scholarship, held her crying in your arms the night before you left, and you whispered in her ear that nothing would change. But then it did, and she did, a year of telephone calls and emails and lame excuses for not visiting, and the first time you came back she climbed into your bed and opened up for you. She whispered in your ear how much she missed you, how much she felt like dying because you just weren't there, and you were powerless against her resolution.

What once had been just stolen kisses and fumbling hands under the covers changed in the space of a night as you covered her with your body.

The rest of your summer holiday was spent ignoring the world and fucking her sweet and slow into your bed when your parents went out for shopping, her laughter ringing in the empty house as you climbed inside her body and wished to never leave. She would let you bend her over on the couch and take her from behind, and you would pin her down into the mattress and come inside her, shivering and cursing and loving her too much.

There were promises to be made but you refused to lie to her, and when you left you wished she'd find somebody she could call her own in the light of day. You kissed her cheek and held her hand, and she didn't shed a tear when you left again knowing you'd do your best to keep away.

You look at her now, your chin digging into her belly as she rakes her fingers through your hair: the smooth, respectable haircut gone to hell with each gentle scrape of nails and isn't that ironic? Your perfect new exterior, a man in the making on his road to success built on bricks of little lies, secrets and crimes that hurt nobody but yourselves.

She leans down again and you're nose to nose, dark eyes looking straight through you and still you haven't even spoken. You want to kiss her but you let her choose the moment, and when she does her lips are sweet and pliant against your own, opening like a secret you know all too well.

Her tongue slides against yours, soft and languid, rolling in your mouth and coaxing out a sigh when she bites down lightly on your lower lip. She moans her contentment, your fingers digging deep into the flesh of her thighs and pulling her closer into your body. She slithers forwards in one smooth motion, settling on your lap in a seamless slide: her weight hasn't changed, her waist slim and delicate in the circle of your arms.

She spreads her legs further to accommodate you better, sliding down and rocking over you in sweet, sweet motions; she whispers words of love into your skin and you want to tell her there's no use, no way this could go on, but you know you want it just as much as she does so why bother.

You hold her to your chest, feet planted in the carpet of your childhood home and hips pushing into her as your hands slide down her backside and beneath her skirt again, cupping the firmness of her buttocks and spreading her open with a careful grip.

She smiles into the kiss, draws her head back and when you look at her she's glowing with intent, lips red and teeth shining as she bites on them, a roll of her hips pressing her farther into you.

“I missed you,” she murmurs, and you make her squirm a little on your fingers as they creep between her legs; you try and distract her from the truth of this even if you groan deep in your throat at the wetness you find, middle finger slipping wet and unresisting along the seam of her panties.

She's quick and wicked in her ways, her little hands trailing down your body as she reaches for the button of your slacks. Tomorrow you'll be wearing jeans and t-shirts, summer clothes you left behind when you packed your bags for college, but right now it's black pants and a well pressed shirt; no tie and jacket yet, but they will eventually come along with business meetings and suspenders.

You kiss her hard and deep, sucking into her mouth, licking your way in as her small hand wraps around you and takes you out of your boxer shorts in one swift, knowing motion; you're hard and aching, and you moan against her lips at the mental picture of your cock inside the cage of her fingers, so big trapped inside the delicate grip she has on you. You want to lower your head and watch as she pumps up a slow, sweet rhythm but you craved her kisses most of all and you don't want to give them up just yet.

She writhes on your lap and grinds against the little pressure you're applying to the wet underside of her panties, and your fingers slip inside smoothly, welcomed into her body as she sighs in relief and bites down on your lip. Warm and damp and yours again, her wrist moving faster on your cock as she follows the way you move between her legs.

The gasp that falls from her mouth when you add a third finger has you opening up your eyes, watching her lean forward and let her head snuggle into the crook of your neck; she bites you lightly in the naked space your shirt allows and you press her to your chest a bit more, rubbing yourself into the tight space in between with a desperate grunt.

You can't wait much longer than this, wondering how you ever could believe this thing between you would just disappear with time, and she comes willingly when you start pushing up against her, her hand leaving you and fastening in your hair.

The wet head of your cock is slick against the smooth skin of her inner thigh, leaving trails of precome to mark her right where no one would think you had any right to be. But she's yours like nothing ever was before, and she takes you inside herself with grace and greedy love in one tight, perfect motion. You don't spare a thought for the ruined pair of panties digging inside your flesh as your hips roll and chase her warmth, your hands spreading her further in your lap as you fuck your way deeper into what you once claimed and can't live without anymore.

It's perfect and it's home, and you don't regret it and never will because she starts riding you like this is what she waited for all along; like this, this moment here when you're both one and together and inseparable forever is what got her going through the motions when you kept yourself away. She moves around you with ease, taking you and keeping you in there as her fingers touch your face, her lips kissing the skin of your cheeks in reverence as her hips make a perfect figure eight around the pulsing heat that you've become.

It doesn't take much, just the soft pressure of your thumb to trig her off and have her clenching hot and scalding around you, your name slipping off her tongue and falling into your mouth honey-sweet and grateful. She comes and comes and milks the orgasm out of you, and you swell and pulse heavy into that perfect hold, loving her more with each frantic upward thrust until you're done.

You stay like this, hugging her shivering form to you for minutes; your heart thumps loudly in your throat and her chest meets yours with each breathless gasp of air as you both try and fail to make sense pf what you are.

“Jo—” you murmur into the skin of her neck, sweat-damp and flushed as you feel her pulse hammer against your lips. You lick the taste of salt away, lap a wet line up before you take the lobe of her ear between your teeth and tug slightly; you suck it into your mouth and you move her one last time over the softening length of your spent dick, wetness sliding down and making a mess of your underwear and pants. The trail of come mixed with her own juices drenches the cotton and makes it uncomfortable for you to sit there without squirming; it makes her laugh and hug you even tighter, and all seems perfect in this moment as long as you don't dare to move. “—I missed you too.”


End file.
